“And not the universe?”
“I can’t protect the universe. I can only protect my planet.”
“Then by all means do so,” Pick replied. “But know this: We are on the leading edge of deep time. That which you see now will pass away because nothing can resist the clock. This, of course, gets us back to my answer concerning why we humans exist. What’s interesting about us is that we have more intelligence than we need. For instance, here we sit in this circle talking philosophy. Any animal that can talk philosophy rather than using its intelligence to feed itself, or procreate, has too much brainpower. Therefore, the only conclusion is we are smarter than we need to be. There is but one possible reason for that and that is we are what we are, established at this time and place to look back over deep time and understand it, and marvel over it. In other words, we are observers, sharing our observations with ourselves and anyone or anything that will listen. Maybe the authors of the Bible had it right. God was lonely and wanted to share His universe with someone, anyone, even such low creatures as ourselves. He wanted to be appreciated for what He’d done.”
There settled over us a thoughtful silence. Jeanette was looking into the fire pit. Amelia’s eyes were glued on Pick and Ray was surreptitiously watching Amelia, no doubt torn with jealousy. Laura and Tanya had leaned back during Pick’s discourse and I think both of them were lightly napping. They’d heard it all before, of course. Brian and Philip wore tense expressions as if trying to force feed themselves Pick’s words and reject them all at the same time. Doubtlessly, they were both impressed and distressed. I was, too. In my opinion, I’d never heard such utter and total bullshit so well spoken. Of course, maybe it wasn’t bullshit but most likely it was. I mean, who knows what any of this means? It’s fun to think about but tomorrow it wouldn’t move a molecule of dirt. We’d have to get our butts up that hill and take it down, rock by rock, by the sheer grit of our determination. Then, I thought, maybe that was Pick’s point. Why were we willing to do that? Why sweat and grunt and bleed and tear our muscles and bruise our skin if not for knowledge of deep time? Then I thought, Wait a minute! Jeanette is doing it to make a buck. Instantly, I felt better. That was a motivation I understood. I was still understanding it, I guess with my eyes closed, when Laura gently prodded me on my shoulder. I blearily looked around, surprised to see all the other chairs empty.
“Time for all sleepy cowboys to go to bed,” she said.
“Let’s go,” I replied, still half asleep.
She chuckled. “Not tonight. My bones are creaking. They don’t need to be jumped on.”
I hadn’t meant it that way but I was pleased that at least she’d entertained the thought. I stood up and got a hug and a kiss on my grizzled cheek.
I was thinking pleasant thoughts about dirty dino girls on the way back to my tent. To get there, I had to pass Bob and saw that Jeanette had rolled out her sleeping bag in the back. “Good night, boss,” I said but she didn’t answer. She wasn’t asleep, I didn’t think, but maybe she was. Funny thing, when I crawled into my sleeping bag, I was thinking about that, whether Jeanette had deliberately ignored me, and not all the marvelous philosophy Pick had spouted or the fact I’d been kissed earlier by a young and very pretty woman. “You sure are perverse,” I told myself and myself agreed but only briefly because I was soon asleep. No low, guttural engine noises from the far BLM woke me up, either. Maybe I was getting used to them.
18
After another morning of doing our best to knock off the top of old Blackie Butte, we headed for town. Jeanette drove Bob, Amelia sat beside her, and Ray and I rode in the back. Laura drove their truck with Pick sitting beside her, Tanya and the Marsh brothers behind to hunker down from the wind and dust. I pondered the sky as we careened down the road to Jericho. It was crystal clear. Not even a wisp of a cloud in it. I felt more foreboding. Montana was being entirely too nice to us. What was she up to, I wondered.
Once we were in town, I checked in at the Tellman’s Motel, which was owned by Mori and Titus Philips, Mori being a Tellman. Mori met me in the tiny office that was actually a back room of her house with a separate door. The sign on the door said IF YOU WANT A ROOM, SORRY WE’RE ALL FILLED UP PLEASE HAVE A NICE DAY. It was too impolite in Fillmore County to just say no VACANCY.
“You look like you need a shower, Mike,” Mori said while I filled out the cards for the rooms. “Jeanette rationing water at the Square C these days?”
Mori was a fine young woman who made a habit of winning the walleye tournaments held annually on the lake. Nearly all Fillmore County women hunt and fish and look good doing it and Mori was decidedly no exception. She had big brown expressive eyes that just looked inside a man, right down to his soul. I was kind of hiding my soul these days so I kept my head down and focused on the card I was filling out. I did answer her, though. “Been dinosaur digging these past weeks. Severe lack of showers out in the BLM.”